


Bodyguard

by Excuseyouclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, F/M, TW: Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excuseyouclarke/pseuds/Excuseyouclarke
Summary: Out of work after a car bombing, Bellamy takes the only job offered to him - the bodyguard of new president Abby Griffins daughter. As much as he despises the President, her daughter is something else entirely.After being promised an easy job, dark secrets and vendettas threaten his promised peace - and Clarkes life.





	1. Chapter 1

After eight years in the military, being punctual was something Bellamy was used to – not even used, it was engrained into him. Being late became a great source of anxiety, so he turned up at a quiet café he didn’t even know existed until today dead on noon, pushing the door open with a _ding_ as the bell above the door echoed through the almost empty space.

Marcus Kane was leant up the counter, talking casually to the barista, an older woman with harsh features and a scar on her cheek. Bellamy nodded his greeting, his arm twitching to salute – muscle memory from his years serving under Kanes commands. Instead he stuck out his hand, Marcus gripped it tightly.

“Blake, good to see you again. You’re looking well”

Bellamy nodded “Very well, sir. The time off served me well”

The woman behind the counter passed over a set of keys to Kane, and muttered “Take your business upstairs where my customers cant hear you”

Kane jerked his head and beckoned him to follow. He lead Bellamy up a dark staircase and he began to wonder wha the hell he’d got himself into. Kane unlocked a deep red door and took a seat a small wooden table. The room was light enough to see the imperfections, he wondered once again what kind of shady business this was going to be.

“With all due respect, Sir – what the hell is going on” Bellamy took the seat across from Kane, wincing a bit as he sat but he tried not to let it show. Kane knew him too well though.

“Knee still causing you grief?” Kane enquired

“Not so bad, its worse in the cold weather. Better if I keep it moving, but with no job” He trailed off with a shrug. Marcus nodded sympathetically.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually” Kane gave him a hard stare, one he’d seen many times in strategy meetings. “What I tell you is completely confidential, I’m telling you because I trust you, and even if you don’t accept the job offer I trust you wont take anything I’ve said past this room”

Bellamy nodded silently, he knew Kane had recently took a role in government security but that was the most information he’d been given.

“President Jaha is stepping down, its being announced at a press conference Thursday.” Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath, none of the scenarios he’d thought up involved being told government secrets. “As you’ve probably noticed, his mental health is no longer up to demands of the job”

It was true, in every interview and conference, Jaha was unsure, tripping over the words and mishearing questions, the answers he gave didn’t make sense half the time. Most the country was calling for him to be impeached. It was a shame what happened to his son, but the country needed a strong leader.

Bellamy didn’t really know what that had to do with him, though.

“Obviously that means the role of president has to go to someone else” Marcus looked at him expectedly, waiting for him to fill In the blanks.

It took him a moment too long, but he finally grasped what that meant. “No”

“Vice President Abby Griffin will be sworn in on Friday”

“No” Bellamy snapped, louder, commanding – if Abby Griffin became President, a good half of the country would riot, the other half would revel in the chaos she would bring.

“It’s all but done”

“What the hell does it have to do with me?” Bellamy spat, he’d served with Kane long enough for him to know what Bellamy’s views on the current government were.

“I’m now in charge of security for the president. After what happened to Wells Jaha, I feel extra security is needed” Marcus told him evenly, his face betraying nothing. “I trust you, I know you and I think you’d be a good fit for the job, and you need the work”

“Absolutely not” Bellamy told him definitely. There was no way he’d ever work closely for a government that was all for going to war while severely cutting the military budget. The same government that was killing people with their medical insurance policies, the government that made it impossible for him to get life insurance.

“I’m not asking you to protect the President”

“Then who?”

Marcus paused, watching him carefully “I want you as a body guard for her daughter, Clarke”

Bellamy had only ever seen Clarke Griffin on television twice, once three years ago when Jaha was sworn in, she was young and happy, smiling with her mother and standing close to Wells Jaha, the occasional flirty smile and girlish giggle caused a complete media frenzy, speculation that they were already engaged, possibly one of Americas most powerful couples.

The second time was when he’d watched Wells Jaha’s funeral from base in Afghanistan. She’d been a different person entirely, red eyed and stoic as her mother pretty much dragged her throughout the whole ceremony. This time, the media speculation was whether she was drunk or not, how medicated she was, how long it would take her to move on.

Working for Clarke would be considerably better, but still not what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to be involved in the government anymore than when he had to when he was in the army. Perhaps not as dangerous, but twice as frustrating having to hold his tongue.

“I don’t expect as answer right away, should you decide to take the job, it comes with a good benefit package, vacation time, health and dental – for you and Octavia – there would be three of you, so on days where there isn’t a public event you’d work on a rotation of days and nights”

Bellamy shook his head, he didn’t want this at all. Couldn’t want this, even if it was a fantastic offer he couldn’t support Abby Griffin and her plan to destroy the country for the working class.

Kane sighed “I’ll give you my business card, if you take the offer I’d preferably get you started before Friday, but the choice is yours”

Bellamy stood and shook Kane’s hand, promising he’d think about it, but it was unlikely.

It felt like hours later when he opened the door to his and Octavia’s apartment. He couldn’t afford to send her away to school, as desperately as he wanted her to have the proper college experience it just wasn’t on the table. Instead she had to live holed up in an apartment they could barely afford with his military salary and her part time barista wages. Now he’d been medically discharged money was tighter than ever, he was worried he’d have to dip into her college funds just to keep up with the rent, that still didn’t cover bills, food, gas money, Octavia’s College textbooks.

“Hey, O” He called out to where she lay on the living room floor, textbooks and flash cards littering her space.

“Hey” She called back, slightly muffled from chewing on her pen lid. She looked over her shoulder at him and frowned “I was hoping you bought groceries”

“I got them last week, we should have enough to last” He stalked to the fridge, frowning when he found it empty. How has they eaten that much when they were on a strict budget?

“You got them two weeks ago, we made them last longer than they should have”

He closed the fridge door and banged his head against it. Damn. Damn this stupid fridge to hell. He looked over to Octavia, still a baby in his eyes, parentless and having to watch her only family go of to war for months at a time, only coming home for good because of a car bombing.

He checked the cupboards, mainly empty bar some jarred stuff that wouldn’t really make a meal. He managed to find a dried pasta pack that they’d have to split between the two of them.

It wasn’t fair. Not on him and not on Octavia. He should be able to put food on the table, she should be out with her friends enjoying college, not working her ass off trying to study and work because he couldn’t do his job anywhere.

Kanes business card was burning a hole in his pocket, screaming to be looked at.

He took the pasta over to Octavia, who sat cross legged to eat her pathetic serving. She didn’t say anything about it, she never did but Bellamy still felt ashamed.

“I got a job offer today” He told her quietly from his place on the beat up old couch. Octavia’s yes lit up.

“Really? That’s great Bell”

Bellamy frowned “I’m not sure if I want it” It sounded so selfish now, as he was serving his baby sister the same amount of food he did when she was five.

“Why not?” She cocked her head curiously, and looked every bit like their mother when she did.

“I cant tell you the exact details” he stabbed a piece of pasta angrily with his fork “But its something I’m not sure I’d feel exactly comfortable doing, but its also great money, and benefits”

Octavia paused, deep in thought for a moment “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. I’m sure something else will come along” She smiled, but he could see the sadness in her eyes.

Bellamy sat back and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t have to agree with Abby Griffin, he just had to protect her daughter. How hard could that be? He doubted anyone would try anything stupid after Wells, no matter how much they hated the new president.

He picked up their bowls and put them in the sink, taking Kanes card out his pocket, he stared hard for a minute then types the number into his phone.

He’d do it for Octavia.

*

  
Wednesday brought him to a nondescript building, no signs to tell you it was a government training centre, that was probably the point though, secrecy. At eight sharp a man in training gear took him through to a meeting room where Marcus Kane sat with two other men, probably about his own age.

“Bellamy” Kane strode forward to grip his hand “I can’t express how grateful I am that you accepted”

He wasn’t doing it for Kane, but he nodded in acknowledgment anyway.

“I know its all a bit rushed, and usually when you’re recruited there’s a two week provisional programme and training but honestly, I don’t have time for all that. I just need to know that your fitness is up to standard after your knee surgery and you can still shoot straight.”

He still ran everyday once he’d been cleared by the doctor, and he was certain shooting was muscle memory by now, so he wasn’t worried.

“This is John Murphy and Nathan Miller, Miss Griffins personal security – your new best friends. You share everything, her whereabouts, who she’s with, who breathes a little too close to her, anyone looks at her too long you take note of. I know its not what you’re used to but its your new normal. You’ll work rotations with them unless it’s a public event, then you’ll double up. Ill leave you to get acquainted” with that, Kane turned on his heel and left, leaving Bellamy a little dumbfounded and standing awkwardly in front of his two new supposed best friends.

John Murphy was serious with messy brown hair and a permanent glare. Nathan Miller seemed more laid back, an easy smile on his face as he leant back in his chair, hair military standard, which made him think he was like Bellamy, fresh out of service with no where else to go.

“Sit” Murphy grunted, kicking out a chair opposite him. Bellamy sat without question “we’re here to give you lowdown”

“Of?” Bellamy raised a eyebrow

“Clarke, the job, everything” Murphy shrugged “how much do you know?”

“Honestly not a lot, I don’t really keep up to date on this stuff. I’ve been out of the service for nearly six months, knee injury.” Bellamy told them, they nodded in acknowledgment.

“Okay, where do you want to start?” Miller asked, almost challenging. He had a feeling he’d bitten off more than he could chew already.

“Anywhere” he shrugged, but it was clear that wasn’t an answer. “What’s she like?”

Murphy and Miller shared a look.

“She’s a manic depressive alcoholic who refuses any sort of help” Murphy started, giving Miller a smirk. “Won’t take her meds, if you try and make her she’ll make herself sick, her mother did that once.”

“She’ll be your best friend for a day then go a week without saying a word.” Miller continued “She rarely leaves her apartment, and when she does there’s a handful of places she goes. You’re expected to do a sweep of the room or building, depending on where she’s going then wait outside, especially if she’s with her girlfriend - who’s a massive secret, especially now Abby’s going to be President.”

“Speaking Of Madam President, Clarke hates her. She’s not moving into the Whitehouse, they’ll act like the perfect mother and daughter in public then ignore each other in private – and when they argue, oh boy does it get nasty” Murphy laughed as Miller shuddered, obviously remembering past incidents.

Millers face softened slightly at Bellamy’s horrified expression, he definitely was not prepared for this, they were paid for personal security, not babysitting services.

“It’s not that bad, really. She can be a handful but she’s an alright person. Unless there’s an event you don’t even have that much to do, you just hang around at her apartment. She usually orders take out of a night, eat anything that’s in the kitchen because she eats like one meal a day and two bottles of wine.”

Bellamy felt an absurd bout of anger, here was this privileged princess who had everything handed to her on a silver platter and she chose to starve herself and drink herself stupid. How could she possibly know what real problems were when she’d grown up never having to struggle?

“The serious part though” Murphy frowned, looking down at the table “She’s getting death threats, through the mail but completely untraceable. No fingerprints, hair samples, nothing. Whoever’s doing it is clever. We don’t think they’ll act on it, but we need to be more vigilant after Friday”

“Anything else?” Bellamy asked, despite his head feeling like it might explode if it took in anymore information.

Murphy shrugged “None that comes to mind. You’re shadowing us for the day tomorrow anyway, you and Miller are doing the inauguration Friday, it will be small, press only so you don’t need to be concerned. If shit does go down, just tackle her. You’ll be wearing a bulletproof vest, so apart from your head anything vitals covered. Don’t take your eyes off her – I mean, she’s not a toddler she doesn’t wander off, she likes you to stay close anyway but just know where she is, and stay vigilant of who’s around and what they’re doing, note anything suspicious, and I mean anything.”

“So, watch her, and my surroundings, make she she doesn’t go anywhere and make sure no ones doing anything strange?” That seemed like a lot for a one man job, he wished he knew all this before he’d negotiated wages with Kane.

“It seems a lot but there’s two of you at public events so its easier. You’ll get used to it, I promise” Miller smiled kindly “and she’s really not a bad person, she has times where she’s a nice person.”

“They’re rare” Murphy snorted “But they are there.”

Kane burst in then, dragging him off to training and a pit of nerves settled into his stomach.

  
*

  
His legs ached and an occasional twinge of pain shot through his knee, but he took some painkillers and dressed in the black suit he’d been given especially for today. Octavia squeezed him a little tighter than usual before he left, but he promised to see her later, and he intended on keeping that promise.

He arrived at the apartment complex ahead of time, and just sat and stared. It was the kind of place he’d want Octavia to live, built up and well kept, the people making their way to their expensive cars all worse suits and smart dresses, clutching coffee flasks tiredly. The entire place screamed money.

He downed the last dregs of coffee and made his way to apartment 23, there was a buzz of energy from behind the door. Tentatively he knocked the door and told himself to stop being so nervous, all he was doing was following the damn princess around all day.

He was right about the buzz of energy, Miller opened the door with a sheepish smile and let him into the chaos. A team of what he could only guess were hair and make up artists were flittering through the apartment, a sense of panic blanketing them as they rushed in and out of a room he guessed was Clarkes. Miller and Murphy stood in a kitchen area to his right, deep in conversation with two blonde women. Murphy jerked his head to beckon Bellamy over.

“Ready for your first day on the job?” Murphy asked with a smirk “We saved handover until you were here, since you’ll need to know everything about what’s going on”

Bellamy nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything.

“Anya” Murphy nodded at one of the women “and Byrne. Anya’s agency, Byrne’s part of Abbys team, we’re liaising” there was a sarcastic undertone to the last part that made Bellamy think Murphy wasn’t exactly enthused to be joining up with the future presidents security.

“She’s horrendously hungover” Anya told them matter of factory, no really emotion in her voice to giveaway what she thought about that. “There was another note pushed through the door” Anya held up her phone to show a picture of a note, cut up letters from newspapers and magazines crudely put together to make _watch your back today. I’m hidden in plain sight_

“Edgy” Murphy rolled his eyes, not taking it as seriously as Bellamy felt it should be.

Anya ignored his comment and carried on “We checked security cameras, different person dropping it off again, still covered head to toe, nothing distinguishable about them. It’s been sent off to forensics but I doubt they’ll find anything. Cars coming in 10, Kane phoned ahead, he wants Miller and new boy in the back with Clarke, Murphy you’re in the front and take newbie with you to do initial checks. If she doesn’t throw up on stage you’ll have a good day” she smirked a little at the last comment and turned to go in the room he assumed was Clarkes bedroom.

Bellamy watched after her, the threatening note left a sour taste in his mouth. It was likely whoever sent that would be there today, and he hadn’t exactly expected any trouble. No one apart from a select few knew what was going on today, as far as he was aware the press had just been told it it was a conference, that an announcement was being made. Though it had been speculated in the media for a while, how could this person possibly know Clarke would be there today? Did they even mean the conference at all though? What if they meant in general, which was trickier, it meant someone part of the team could be sending threats, and they’d be harder to scope out.

People started filtering out of Clarkes room as Miller called a five minute warning. Anya nodded to them as she left, calling a ‘good luck’ over her shoulder.

“Logistics” the other woman – Byrne snapped “Clarkes the last to arrive, the president and Vice President will already be in the holding room by the time she gets there. Murphy still take Bellamy to do a sweep, Miller stay in the car until its done. Kane wants Miller and Bellamy on stage with her, Murphy you’re to stay at the sidelines with Shumway. There’s only one way onto the stage so you don’t need to leave your position. When the announcement is over the president will take questions, then the Vice President. When its over she’s expected to go back to holding, Murphy do another sweep then back to the car. Understood?”

The three nodded at her, if they did anything other than agree Bellamy feared she might chew his head off. Byrne turned on her heel and walked out without another word, but Bellamy was grateful he knew what his day looked like without having to ask a hundred questions.

“That was hard work” a pretty auburn haired girl said from behind them with a tired smile.

“You had the easy job” Murphy snorted “You just have to make her look presentable, we have to make sure she survives long enough to stay presentable”

“I’m not going to survive this hangover” Bellamy stiffened as Clarke Griffin sauntered into the kitchen, throwing open the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“That would make my job easier” Murphy grinned, his features softening more than he expected them to. Clarke rolled her eyes by smiled anyway. Bellamy tried not to notice how damn pretty she was, but he put it down to the amount of make up she was probably wearing, along with the floaty navy dress, hitting just shy of her knees.

“Clarke, this is Bellamy Blake” Miller introduced, she’d obviously been told about him because she just raised her glass of wine to him and walked out. Bellamy decided she was a brat. Miller rolled his eyes told him to follow.

Miller luckily was a good teacher and taught him how to do a sweep before taking Clarke down to the car. It was simple enough, look for suspicious people or packages, check the drivers ID even if you’ve seen him everyday for a year, check the car then back up to the apartment.

Clarke was waiting with Murphy ready to go. She was sour faced, sunglasses covering her eyes and a petulant pout on her lips. Bellamy was glad she wasn’t looking at him, he carefully left his features blank, but it was going to be a struggle if she was going to be a brat.

He held the car door open, Miller got in first, then Clarke. Murphy slipped into the front seat and chatted to the driver, purposely too loud making Clarke wince. He was grateful for the distraction, because his stomach was doing flips and his mind was spinning with the amount of information it was having to absorb.

He left Clarke with Miller in the car, Murphy taught him how to sweep a building, talking considerably less than Miler but he was fine with that. He was handed an earpiece and sunglasses.

“Head of security can either send a message to everyone or just you through your earpiece, you’ll get a talkie but its for mass messages, like if you see a shooter or suspicious package. Keep your sunglasses on, if you see someone acting suspicious they cant know you’re looking at them. Keep your gun and badge on you at all times and you’ll be fine”

He was happy when they pulled the President, Vice President and Clarke out of the holding room and onto the stage. A mass of security flocked them, the President had five people, Abby four. Clarke grumbled at two but Kane had insisted. If these threatening messages were anything to go by he could see why.

President Jaha gave a long and sad speech, about his son, about his struggles and ambitions for the country while Bellamy scanned the press. He was hoping nothing would jump out at him, but by the third scan something was off.

Clarke turned slightly to him and stood on her tiptoes to reach his ear “There’s a press member, he’s not took a single note, just stared at me the whole time” her voice was low and deliberate, making sure only he could hear her.

Bellamy had seen him too “Third row back?”

She nodded and faced forward again, smile plastered on her face as her mother was introduced as the next President of the United States. Bellamy’s stomach lurched at the thought of this woman actually running the country. She was out for the rich, not giving a second thought to the middle class, let alone the working class and people on the poverty line. There were veterans coming home with no place to go and the government turned a blind eye. Last month he’d heard of a man who killed himself because he couldn’t afford his cancer treatment. It was becoming more and more obvious who was running the country since Wells death, obvious that Abby Griffin had sunk her claws in.

He leant over to Miller, tapping him once. “Third row from the front, fifth from the left – brown sports jacket and blue shirt” Miller nodded and stood back to attention, Bellamy knew he’d be watching.

Bellamy watched as this man didn’t make a singe movement, the Camera around his neck stayed untouched and the notebook in is hand stayed firmly at his side. He only watched Clarke as Abby answered questions from the rest of the press.

Miller stalked off stage as the questions were wrapping up, then tapped him on the shoulder “Take her straight back to the car, you and Murphy are taking her back to the apartment, I’m staying here with Kane in case he tries anything” Bellamy nodded as he walked off to say something – presumably the same thing – to another security man.

The press burst into protest as Abby announced no more questions. She stepped back and Clarke stepped up to hug her. Flashes light took over as the press caught the touching moment. Clarke leant back and beamed, then security stepped forward to Abby and Bellamy put a hand on her back, guiding her off stage.

“Are we going back to the holding room?” She asked quietly, seeming eager to get off stage.

“No. Murphy and I are escorting you home”

Clarke just nodded as she followed Murphy to the back entrance.

“Stay here” Murphy barked as he stalked outside to do a sweep. Bellamy felt a bit ashamed to think he thought this was all a bit overdramatic, but he found himself genuinely concerned for her.

“Well observed” She murmured next to him, not looking up. Her eyes were fixed to the door, her foot tapping nervously.

“It’s my job” he told her blankly

“Good job for your first day” She smirked a little, and looked so much younger. “You just need to keep it up at the inauguration tomorrow. Lucky for you it’s a small affair, press only since she wasn’t actually the chosen President. They don’t want riots” there was a bitter tone to her words, the sour look back on her face and Bellamy was reminded that Murphy had told him Clarke hated her mother. Maybe they’d get on after all.

“Let’s go” Murphy snapped, holding the door open then stepping in front of Clarke. Bellamy kept a hand on her back, considering the best way to push her down if gun shots starting firing. He needed more eyes, he needed to look in every direction and at Clarke, and Murphy, and where he was going so he didn’t crash into anyone. It was a relief when Murphy threw the car door open and he could get her out of sight.

“Drive” Murphy snapped at the driver, then turned and glared at Clarke “Seatbelt on”

Clarke mock saluted and pulled her seatbelt over her.

“Well that was fun” Clarke smiled with a clap of her hands “We should do it again tomorrow”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, he’d bitten off more than he could chew.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy hadn’t even closed the door when Octavia bombarded him with a million questions.

“How was it? What’s she like? What happened on stage when security went all sketchy and got everyone off the stage fast? Did you know you’re trending on twitter?”

Bellamy walked past her into the kitchen, pulling out the pasta and jarred sauce out his bag. The meat was too expensive, but this was better than nothing.

“It was fine, she’s a brat, security did not go all sketchy, we just moved everyone along so they wouldn’t ask anymore questions” He definitely wasn’t going to tell Octavia about the potential security issue, she didn’t need to worry. “And I’m doing what on where?’

Octavia rolled her eyes dramatically “Twitter, Bell” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re trending on twitter”

“What the hell does that mean?” He fished an old saucepan out the cupboard, it was their mothers, ancient and stained but functional.

“Twitter’s an app” She huffed, as if she were explaining how to walk “People write things, you know current events or whatever. I use it to tweet about Love Island”

“Great, what the hell does that have to do with me?”

“Because, when everyone’s talking about something it starts trending, and people are talking about you more than Abby Griffin running the country”

“What? No they’re not” He snapped, switching the stove on. It would probably take half an hour to get the water even a bit warm, but as long as they ate at some point tonight he didn’t care.

“Yes, they are. All anyone’s talking about is _Clarke Griffins hot bodyguard_.” She plucked her phone out her pocket and tapped on the screen until she got a series of pictures up, one of Clarke standing on her tiptoes, her hands clasped in front of her and lips to his ears mid sentence. He looked serious, lips drawn tight together staring straight ahead through his glasses.

The next picture was him leading Clarke off the stage, hand on the small of her back and looking out into he crowd. There were others, moments, Clarke smirking at him on stage, him watching impassive as she hugged her mother, him standing too close with his hand on her waist as she ducked into the car.

He scrolled through what people were saying with a grimace “Octavia what the hell are these people calling me a snack?”

She gaffed “They’re not all calling you a snack, some think you’re the entire meal”

“What?”

“They think you’re hot. I don’t know why but they do” Octavia pulled a face and measured out the pasta.

“Cause they’re right” He smirked, Octavia shoved him hard in the shoulder.

  
+

  
Bellamy had to turn up at the crack of dawn the next day, his coffee wasn’t strong enough to get him through the day after the shit nights sleep he’d had. Every time he closed his eyes a worst case scenario ran through his head, shootings, bombings, anything that meant Clarke would be taken out.

He had a horrible feeling as he knocked on the door, but he shook it away and told himself Kane would make sure security was tighter than ever today.

Miller grinned at him as he opened the door, gesturing for him to come in. Bellamy raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on the stupid grin on his face.

“There’s my favourite hot bodyguard” Clarke called from where she was perched on the kitchen counter, bowl of cereal in her hands and a bottle of champagne at her side. She was barefaced today, her make up team not here yet. Her hair was scraped into a messy bun and she was still stupidly attractive.

Miller laughed out loud and Anya snorted from her place on the sofa.

“Not you too” Bellamy groaned “My sister wont shut up about it”

“Good” Clarke grinned as she spooned colourful cereal in her mouth “People are talking about you more than they are about Jaha stepping down and handing over the country to a sociopath, and its pissing my mother off”

Bellamy blushed at the comment, but the comment about Abby being a sociopath stuck with him. He’d assumed she’d be a snob, look down on people like him like her mother did, but that didn’t seem to be the case. She didn’t just dislike her mother, she saw through her.

“I thought there’d be more security here” He changed the subject before they could start mocking him some more.

“Kane doesn’t want to draw any attention” Miller informed him “The Whitehouse will be teeming, mainly undercover security since it’s press only”

Bellamy just nodded “Anymore death threats?”

“No, I’m disappointed” Clarke pouted “I looked forwards to my notes”

“They were death threats, not exactly love letters” Anya scoffed, but Clarke just shrugged.

“Any attention is good attention. Besides, guys do weird shit all the time to get attention”

Anya rolled her eyes, a sharp knock on the door stopped her responding. Clarkes make up team trailed in, taking over the living room completely. The pretty auburn haired girl appeared in the kitchen, looking over Clarke critically.

“Show time” she told Clarke sternly, who just dumped her cereal bowl in the sink and jumped off the counter, taking her champagne with her. She unceremoniously fell back onto an armchair and closed her eyes, resigned to whatever the make up team was about to do.

“Sorry, we didn’t get chance to meet properly, I’m Gina” she stuck her hand out in front of Bellamy, he took it hesitantly, nobody had actually formally introduced themselves on the job yet.

“Bellamy” He nodded, Gina smirked.

“Oh I know, hot bodyguard. You’re all anyone’s talking about” she giggle, girlish and pretty.

“I wish they wouldn’t” Bellamy grumbled, annoyed that this would keep coming up. Hopefully after they got their pictures today things would die down a little especially if Clarke didn’t leave the apartment much, which he could only hope. “People on the internet keep calling me a snack, I don’t know what it means”

“It means you’re yummy” Clarke called from her place on the armchair, Gina nodded and smiled at him, a warm but teasing smile, he found himself smiling back.

“I should get helping, we’ve only got a short amount of time to make her look, well sober” she half shrugged and went back to the living room, Anya came in the kitchen and leant up the counter.

“What’s the lowdown then?” Miller asked, flicking the kettle on.

“She’s not too bad” Anya shrugged “Quiet night, no unusual activity, no notes. CCTV was pretty much clear, she didn’t get overly drunk” She looked back to Clarke, then lowered her voice “I think she’s scared, she wouldn’t admit it but she made me keep the CCTV on the laptop so she could see it”

Clarke looked over suspiciously, and Bellamy wondered if the open plan setting was to stop people talking about her.

“Diyoza’s running the show at the Whitehouse today, something tells me Kanes worried about this press guy from yesterday. They tried to track I’m down but couldn’t find anything, so it’s a tight ship there today” Anya told them, he’d expected security to be tight, but they must have been scared to bring Diyoza in.

“Do they expect any disturbances?” Miller asked, looking hard at Anya.

“They hope the press guy got spooked yesterday, they think he left pretty quickly after the stage was cleared. No one could find a clear shot of him on CCTV, which makes me think he knows what he was doing. Just be on high alert”

Bellamy and Miller nodded, and Anya took her leave. Clarke was whisked off to put her dress on, and Miller did a sweep to the car. Clarke stood next to him, waiting for Miller to come back. She was swaying slightly on her feet, but he didn’t mention it.

“Oh no” Miller glared when he came back “You look like you’re dressed for a funeral” he gestured to Clarkes black dress, and Bellamy couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“I am” Clarke said sombrely. She hiccuped, then gagged.

“We don’t have time for you to be sick” Miller warned, Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine, just lead the way”

The drive was quiet and tense, Clarke lived a 30 minute drive away from the whitehouse, so there was too much time to think and over analyse. Clarkes leg was bouncing restlessly as she stared out the window, eyes covered with dark sunglasses.

A platform had been built especially for the Inauguration, press areas full and cameras swinging in front of them. He was glass for the sunglasses as the relentless flash of the cameras danced in front of him.

Clarke was behind Abby, slightly off to the side flanked by Bellamy and Miller as Abby took her Oath, they were assured it would be quick, only official ceremonies were being done, no parades or celebrations. Even if it wasn’t done so quickly, the tone of the public was rapidly going dark, protesters were barely contained, riots were being threatened, work strikes, they were in for a year of hell, and that was if she didn’t get into office for another term. Jaha had just finished his third year when he stepped down, had Wells not have been killed there was a good chance he’d have gotten in again in November.

Bellamy felt himself relax marginally as the ceremony was coming to a close, he still scanned the crowd, but he was happy there were no signs of trouble. Abby was declared President, Clarke took a deep breath and stepped forward to hug her.

That’s when the commotion started. A shout came from the press area, security was pushing through, confused murmurs rippled through the angry screams.

It happened so quickly Bellamy wasn’t sure how he got his feet to move. The man from the day before was standing barely contained with a gun aimed at Clarke as she stepped back from her embrace. Abby was ripped away and Bellamy dove forward, tackling Clarke to the floor as the crack of the gun rang through the platform.

He winced as he tried not to completely squash her on the floor, pain bloomed in his side and Clarkes head cracked loudly off the wooden floor.

Under him, Clarkes lips were moving, but he couldn’t seem to hear what she was saying, he was inappropriately lost in how blue her eyes were.

  
“ – ellamy! Were you hit?” Her voice finally broke through his trance, and he had to think, had he been hit? It hurt, definitely hurt, but not enough for it be a wound.

“It hit my vest” he whispered, and she sagged back in relief. He pulled himself up, holding out his hand for her to pull up. There were still shouts from the crowd, Bellamy wondered how hard it could be to contain one man? He pulled Clarke to his side and pulled her towards the steps off the platform.

She dug her heels in suddenly, Bellamy tugged on her arm but she was rooted in place.

“Come on” He shouted, but she was staring past him into the crowd, looking directly at the gunman who had broke free from security, gun aimed upwards at them.

Clarke dove forwards, too quick for him to realise what she was doing and snatched his gun from the waistband of his pants. She held it with too much confidence to not know what she was doing.

“Clarke no” he went to grab her arm, but he was too slow. She’d pulled the trigger and the gunman stilled, blood trickling down his nose and cheeks, the light faded from his eyes as security pulled him down.

Bellamy wasn’t going to pretend he’d never killed, he’d served in the army for eight years, he knew as well as anyone the kind of toll that has on a person, but Clarkes gaze stayed steady, hard and cold at the dead man below her.

She lowered her arm and looked up to him “I told you I was dressed for a funeral”

He pulled her arm, dragging her off the platform where they were ushered into a room somewhere in the whitehouse and the door slammed shut, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone in deafening silence.

“Are you alright?” He finally asked when the silence got too much.

“Yeah” she breathed “Fine”

“Really?” He shot back critically “Cause you just shot a man between the eyes without even hesitating”

He watched her reaction carefully, but she just looked on at him evenly, seemingly unfazed by having just killed a man.

“It was kill or be killed”

“No it wasn’t” he snapped “I had you covered, you didn’t have to take the gun. You didn’t have to shoot”

“He shot first!” She shouted, the sound echoing through the room. Her voice was too sweet, too innocent sounding to have one what she just did.

He was about to answer back, ask her if that was really worth killing a man over when the door flew open, Kane stalking inside, his eyes wide and angry.

“You.” He glared at Bellamy “out now”

“Sir” Bellamy nodded and closed the door behind him. Two guards were stationed either side, so Bellamy leant on the wall opposite the door, waiting for what he knew was about to come.

He had to admit, the noise cancelling walls were good, but they didn’t mute the screaming match that was going on behind them. He couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but the tone suggested Kane was not impressed, which meant he was now in the shit.

It seemed like an age, but the door finally swung open and Kane stormed towards him, anger still bright in his eyes. “You – don’t ever let her get hold of your gun again. I know you’re new to this and don’t know her but that girl and guns should never mix. Understood?”

“Yes sir” there was no point arguing, not when Kane was like this. He needed this job right now, he needed to support Octavia and keep her in school.

“Good. Are you injured?”

“No sir”

“Then David will escort you and Clarke back to her Apartment. She’s not to leave it again until I give the all clear”

The door flew open and again, and Clarke stalked out, glaring at Kane. “Where’s my mother?”

“She’s safe” Kane assured her, but he could see on Clarkes face that didn’t pacify her.

“That’s not what I asked”

Kanes resolve crumbled, he looked down sheepishly.

“Right. I get shot at and she fucks off”

“Clarke, she’s president now, you know we have to take extra precautions” Kan reasoned, tone softer now. Clarke turned her back on him and stalked down the Corridor. Bellamy nodded at Kane and stalked after her, David following Closely. She stopped at the exit and gave Bellamy a look.

“Stay here” He muttered to David “I’m going to do a sweep.”

He took a step outside and let the door fall shut behind him, taking a moment to just breathe. That would probably go down in history as one of the most eventful inaugurations in history. It wast everyday the Presidents daughter shoots a man between the eyes without so much as flinching.

Who the hell was she? A manic depressive and alcoholic maybe, but she had a better shot than some soldiers and the callous attitude to go with it. He did a thorough sweep on the car, not convinced there wasn’t explosives in there. When everything was clear, he pulled open the door and pulled Clarke close to him, David flanked her other side, making a wall around her until she got in the car.

“You ride shotgun” he muttered to David, who nodded and slipped in the front. Clarke sat up against the window, arms crossed over herself protectively or petty, he wasn’t sure.

The silence wasn’t quite as tense the further away from the Whitehouse they got. It was interrupted by a buzzing from Bellamy’s breast pocket. Clarke glared at him and he silenced it, but whoever was calling was relentless, he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Oh for gods sake just answer your phone. Whoever it is just saw you get shot on live television” Clarke snapped.

Bellamy sighed and fished is phone out his pocket, Octavia’s name flashing on the screen. “Fuck” he muttered, accepting the call.

“O, I can’t really talk”

There was a sniffle, a catching of breath “I just saw what happened, they’re saying you were shot”

“I’m fine” he sighed “It got my vest. It probably won’t even bruise” it was a lie, it hurt like a bitch but he couldn’t have her worrying, not after everything they’d already been through.

“Are you fine? I saw what she did, Bell she shot that man – ”

“We’ll talk when I get home, alright?” He cut her off, not knowing how much Clarke could hear, and he definitely wasn’t going to talk about her when she was sitting next to her. Even if he did was to call her mentally unhinged.

“Okay” Octavia conceded quietly, there was a rustle of papers, a shushing noise

“You at the library?”

“Yeah” Octavia whispered “I shouldn’t be calling you, but they had the television on to watch and I had to make sure you’re alright”

“I’m fine. Go back to studying and I’ll see you later yeah?”

“Love you” she said shakily, there was a hush, he wondered what it looked like from an outside view, he was sure he’d see it all over the news for the next week.

“Love you too” He smiled softly and hung up, Clarke gave him a once over.

“Girlfriend?”

“Sister” He told her evenly, she nodded but didn’t say anything more on the subject. He let David stay with her while he checked out the apartment, all clear. No notes or suspicious packages, though he guessed the person sending the threats had just been eliminated.

David left as soon as he was given the all clear, and Bellamy was left alone with Clarke. He had no idea how she’d deal with this, she wasn’t a soldier, she wasn’t trained to kill. Yet she had perfect precision, she didn’t even hesitate, didn’t show any remorse for her actions.

“Take your shirt off”

Bellamy spluttered, looking over at her incredulously. She was deadly serious, no smile or joking to her words. She was clinical, stoic maybe. “Are you mad?”

“No. But you might have broken ribs. The vest didn’t stop the bullet from hitting you” she said evenly.

“What are you going to do about it?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, not really taking her for the medical sort.

“Just take your shirt off so I can see.” She snapped, his ribs did hurt, he’d broken them before, during the explosion that fucked his knee, but that pain was the least of his worries. He sighed and conceded, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I swear to god if you take photos of me shirtless and put it on tweeter” He muttered, unclipping his vest.

“It’s twitter, and don’t worry I’m not the paparazzi” he hissed as her fingers ran over his ribs, pain shooting up his chest. He looked down, there was a bruise already forming, purple and angry, but it was better than a bullet lodged in his chest. She pressed down again and he hissed.

“I don’t think its broken. Sit down, I’ll get you some ice” he nodded and sat on the sofa, flicking the television onto he 24 hour news channel and set the laptop up so the CCTV in the hallway was on. Clarke brought a towel with ice cubes wrapped in it and placed over the bruise gently. He’d expected her to pull her hand away, let him hold it there himself but she stayed, eyes trained on the ice pack. He shivered as goosebumps littered his skin. With her free hand she pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, expensive and soft - better than anything he’d ever laid his hands on – and put it around his shoulders.

The gesture was unexpected and touching, almost tender. It made his heart clench and realise that he had no idea who the girl sitting next to him was. He thought she’d be shallow, a brat, probably a spoilt princess. He’d expected her to spiral tonight, maybe drink herself stupid after killing a man, but instead she was sat here with him, head resting on the back of the couch tiredly with an ice pack on his bruised ribs.

“Hey, you alright?” He murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. They flickered open and she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“You don’t have to be. What happened was traumatic, you’re allowed to be affected by it”

She chewed her lip, an indecisive glint in her eyes, but she shrugged half heartedly and said “its done now, there’s nothing I can do to change it”

He nodded, it was a level way of thinking, he wished he had the same sort of self control, instead he lay awake at night thinking of fatherless children, huddled up in their room scared for their lives, scared they were going to get shot too because they were on a different side of the war.

The ice was melting now, dripping in a steady stream down to the waistband of his trousers. Clarke stood up and threw the last remaining ice in the sink and got a bottle of vodka out the cupboard. He flinched as she took a long drink from the bottle.

“Just going to drink that neat?”

“Mhm” She nodded, sitting back next to him. He pulled his shirt back on, buttoning it up so if anyone came in he wasn’t sitting shirtless with a drunk Clarke, a sure way to get fired.

“Drinking game” She said suddenly, making him jump. She pointed to the television, they were playing the shooting on an almost continuous loop. “Drink every time they do a close up of my face”

“You’ll get alcohol poisoning” Bellamy rolled his eyes, Clarke took a swig from the bottle.

Bellamy was counting down the minutes until Murphy got here to take over. He’d underestimated how many times they’d actually show a close up of Clarke firing into the crowd. He’d tried to prised the bottle out her hands, but she’d clung onto like a lifeline and threatened to bite him. One more hour and she’d be Murphy’s problem.

He’d almost believed that she was okay, that she was coping. But she’d drunk close on half a bottle of Vodka and her eyelids were drooping, she wondered if Murphy had to listen out for her choking in the night.

A loud, repeated banging on the door pulled him out the door and made Clarke jump up before he could even register that he needed to check it out.

“Clarke” He warned, trying to get ahead of her.

“Relax” she peered through the peephole, then pulled the door open dramatically, letting a tall, fierce and angry brunette woman in.

“What the fuck? Ive been calling you all day, your phones switched off, I thought they’d locked you up or something! I’ve been going out my mind and you’re here drunk not giving a shit” she fumed, turning on Clarke.

“Nobodies locking me up, they’ll say it was self defence and probably hail me a hero for getting rid of an active shooter better than Kanes shitty security. I forgot to turn my phone back on after everything that happened, I’m sorry it worried you” Clarke put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders, Bellamy got the impression this was the secret girlfriend.

“How the fuck are you okay with all this? Clarke you were shot at, you killed a man and you don’t even give a shit”

“How do you know I’m okay? Maybe I’m really, really not alright. You’ll just have to stay with me tonight, in case I get any nightmares.” Clarke simpered, pulling the other woman by the hand towards the bedroom, a devious smirk gracing her lips.

“You’re terrible” There was no real heat to the words, the other woman actually had a hint of a smile on her face.

“Bellamy, order in whatever food you want. Murphy wants me – well, you to order him a Large pepperoni pizza. Get something for your sister as well. Credit cards in the middle draw” Clarke called out to him before her bedroom slammed shut.

Bellamy basked in the silence for a minute, leaning back against the soft sofa cushions. It took him too long to realise he hadn’t eaten all day, he hadn’t even thought of it until Clarke had mentioned pizza, and suddenly he was ravenous.

He ordered Murphy’s pizza, a meat feast for him and a Hawaiian for Octavia. He considered asking Clarke if they wanted something, but he guessed they’d have said if that was the case, so he left them to it, not wanting to think about what was going on behind the closed door.

He was overjoyed when Murphy finally turned up at nine, cocky smirk and all.

“So I missed all the fun” He said with a shit eating grin Bellamy wanted to punch off his face, but he restrained. “Kanes filled me in on everything already. She drunk?” He jerked his towards the bedroom, Bellamy nodded.

“Took longer than I thought it would, but you know, they’re playing the shooting on a loop. She’s watched it from every angle possible”

“Bet Madam President’s pissed. Clarke taking over the spotlight with her homicidal tendencies” Murphy smirked as he hung his jacket up.

“Wouldn’t know, they sent us straight back here, kept Miller there as extra security too”

Murphy let out a low whistle “Didn’t even check on her own daughter? She’s a piece of work that woman. I take it Clarkes going to be fun tonight then?”

“Probably wont see her, she went into her bedroom with some girl an hour ago and. Haven’t heard off them since.”

“Brunette, a bit scary looking, glares a lot?”

“That’s the one” Bellamy nodded.

“Yeah that’s Lexa, her girlfriend. I’m in for an easy night, I take it no suspicious activity?”

“Nope” Bellamy shrugged his jacket on “I’m sure Clarkes taken care of whoever was sending them notes” He picked up his Pizzas and breathed a sigh of relief when the door finally shut on the shitty day.


	3. Chapter 3

“Carl Emerson” Kane told them sharply at a debrief at the White House. Clarke was somewhere sulking because she’d been forced to spend time with her mother, Murphy had told her to suck it up.

“His wife and daughter died after their water supply was contaminated. He went to the government after it happened but he was brushed off. We found letters, phone records, emails, even a suicide note in him apartment. Apparently his plan was to kill Miss Griffin then kill himself.”

Everyone took a sharp intake of breath. He wasn’t going to justify what the man had done, but he could see how it had tipped him over the edge. And he sort of got the need for revenge, especially when the current government was dead set against helping people like him.

“I don’t want to tell you to let your guards down, because I’m sure there will be other threats. But for now you can all breathe a little easier. You all got through it with only one casualty, that could have turned into a massacre”

“Thank Clarkes surprisingly accurate shot” Murphy snorted.

Kane shifted in front of them, uncomfortable still by the thought of Clarke with a gun, and it made Bellamy wonder whose safety Kane was concerned for. “Yes well that too. Itinerary for the month, 17th President Griffin has a state dinner, none of you are required to attend past the doors of the White House. Whoever’s on the day will escort Miss Griffin here, whoever’s on the night will meet here at twenty three hundred hours to escort her home and continue their shift from there. 23rd is the memorial for Wells Jaha, all three of you are required to attend as Security will be tight there and if there’s even a possibility of her becoming a target we want her covered. Agency will cover the night”

Murphy looked relieved at not having to work after the memorial, and honestly Bellamy was too. He still couldn’t gauge Clarkes emotions, so god only knows what she’d be like after that.

“That’s it so far for public events this month, anything else you will be informed accordingly. Who is on shift today?”

Bellamy nodded “Me, sir” as if it wasn’t obvious by his casual uniform – it was Clarkes request that they didn’t wear suits outside of public events. Kane had said no to them wearing their own clothes, so they’d compromised and gone for white t shits and Black jeans.

He had an abundance of black jeans, plain white t shirts weren’t his thing, so he’d had to borrow a couple off Miller until payday. It hurt his pride a little, but he’d done worse things so he didn’t overthink it.

“Go do your safety sweep. We’ve left Miss Griffin and Vice President Sydney in the same room too long already, someone’s going to end hurt if they’re together any longer. You’re all dismissed, thank you again for your continued hard work.” Kane nodded and left the room stiffly, even after a few years out the army he stood like he had an iron rod stuck in his spine.

“Last time Clarke and Sydney were in a room together Clarke told her she’d rather top herself than breathe the same air as her” Miller snorted “and that was before she was Vice President, I cant imagine she likes her anymore now”

“Honestly I don’t blame her” Murphy shrugged. “Woman’s shady as hell and Clarkes tetchy”

Tetchy was certainly one word for what Clarke was, but he wasn’t going to suggest any others while he was as in the White House. “Never met her” Bellamy muttered, pushing himself up off the chair. “Seems like I’m about to though”

“Have fun” Murphy smirked. Bellamy rolled his eyes, Miller mock saluted him as he walked out. Clarke was standing at the back entrance, two guards close by while she smoked a cigarette, turning her head to blow smoke in a blonde woman’s face. He assumed that was Diana Sydney.

“Ready to go?” He asked Clarke. She looked up to him from her Glare.

“More than ever. Diana, its been a blast. Let’s go” She stalked to the car, Bellamy close on her heel. He opened the door so she could slip into the back, Bellamy got in the front, and breathed a little easier as they got further away from the White House.

Clarke fell back onto the couch and groaned as she pried her heels off. Bellamy flicked the news on and set up the CCTV on the laptop.

“Fun bonding time with your mother?” He asked, trying his best to keep a straight face. Clarke glared and tossed her shoe at him, he caught it easily with a smirk placing it on the floor next to him. She shook her head and leant back, blonde hair fanning to the side. She looked like she belonged in a museum, a painting people would pay to see.

“The best” She drawled sarcastically, she rubbed her eyes with her palms, it wasn’t even noon and she looked ready to drop at any moment.

He didn’t comment on it, he knew how it was to have a complicated relationship with your mother. It’s not like he wanted to swap stories or anything, he didn’t want to compare or talk about who had it worse, he’d already won. There was something he wanted to comment on, but it wasn’t the right time, he needed to wait until she started drinking, her lips were looser and she gave out information she wasn’t supposed to.

His cheeks flushed as he felt her staring hard at him, he looked over but she was staring at a faint stain on his shirt. Miller hadn’t told him what it was, so its not like he could explain himself, he just turned away so she couldn’t see it anymore. He heard her get up after that, setting a bottle of wine down on the coffee table and setting up a tablet on a stand. She sat back on the sofa with a sketchbook and tray of oil pastels.

On the tablet was a picture of a meadow, rolling hills and fields topped and a perfect blue sky, fluffy white clouds floated sparingly in the distance. It was somewhere he longed to be, somewhere peaceful, without war and hate, images of violence left in another lifetime.

“Where’s that?” He asked softly.

Clarke didn’t look up from her drawing, too engrossed in the lilac scattering flowers. “England” Her voice seemed far away, dreamy – like she had the same longing as him. “The Cornish countryside. It’s a commission piece”

“Commission piece?”

She looked up at him then, a small smile on her face “Yeah, for work”

“You have a job?” He didn’t mean to say it so abrupt, but it took him by surprise. She barely left her apartment, there was no way she had a mundane office job, not when she was drunk most of the time - or at least the week he’d been working with her.

She laughed, pretty and delicate “Of course I have a job, how do you think I payed for this place?”

He shrugged “Your mother? The government? A trust fund?”

“I don’t take shit off my mother, the Government technically gave me a house, The White House, and I have other plans for my trust fund”

“So what do you do?”

She smiles warmly for the first time, a burst of colour in her cheeks. “I’m an artist” She says, almost shyly. “Started off with two spaces at my fiend Luna’s exhibition, back when it was twice a month in a warehouse. Then she got her own gallery, I started taking commissions, and here we are” she gestured down at her sketchbook, outlines of the fields starting to take shape. “What about you, surely you didn’t want to be the Presidents daughters bodyguard when you left the army”

Bellamy huffed out a breath “I wasn’t expecting to leave the army so soon, I didn’t really have any plans. Medically discharged” He gestured to his knee, wearing Jeans and suits you could barely tell anything was wrong, he covered up his limp well, learning how to stand and walk without attracting attention to it. Underneath it was a mess of scars and burns, months of physiotherapy he couldn’t afford and crushing disappointment that the only thing he’d ever been good at was gone.

“I’m sorry” She sounded like she genuinely meant it, Bellamy nodded his head in return.

“So when Kane offered me this job, with good benefits and decent hours, I couldn’t really say no” he’d bared more than he was meant to, but somehow the softer side of her made him do that.

She didn’t seem to have a response to that, so they sat in companionable quiet, him watching the news and Clarke sketching. Eventually she started rubbing her eyes, so she set the sketchbook down and picked up the bottle of wine instead, she didn’t seem to bother with glasses, ever classy she drank it straight from the bottle. Sometimes she’d tip it up too fast and it would splutter up her face and she’d snort delicately.

They still showed the shooting, except now it was accompanied with a portrait of Carl Emersons family, happy and beaming in front of a Christmas tree, Clarke no longer the saviour who brought down a madman Vigilante taking a stand against the corrupt government, but a murder who shot a grieving widower in cold blood.

The tone towards Clarke from the media was mixed. Everybody had loved her father, he was kind and caring, always a family man. He should have been president, but instead a tragic accident had left Abby to take his place, and people saw Clarke as an extension of Abby more than Jake, they rarely saw her as her own person.

The story had flipped against the government, more people turning against them, proof that their policies were turning people mad, homicidal, maybe even suicidal.

There was a time he knew how that felt.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” He blurted out, without really meaning to. He’d wanted to ask it at some point, but his thoughts had ran away from him and fixated at the images of her holding a gun on the television.

Clarke looked up in surprise, and gave him an appraising look that made him a bit uncomfortable. Of course it wasn’t his place to know, he should have kept himself out her business.

“My father” She finally told him, a bit dejected.

“Your father taught you to shoot with military precision?” He found that hard to believe, while he didn’t know Jake Griffin personally, he didn’t see him as one to take his young daughter out shooting.

“He taught me how to defend myself. Before he died he used to take me to shooting ranges, he always made it clear that it was for life or death situations only, when he died I was good with a gun, I could have made a shot on target. But I carried on after he died, being good wasn’t enough, I knew that when the time it would have to a perfect shot”

He stared at her hard, there was a calmness to her voice, but a subdued fear in her eyes “What are you so afraid of?” He asked gently, her eyes flicked over him, weighing him up.

“I don’t trust Kanes men” she told him evenly, and he sat up straighter in surprise.

“I’m Kanes men, so is Murphy and Miller”

Clarke nodded “You pushed me out the way of a Bullet, Miller and Murphy have been with me a while, I trust all of you, but the rest of the security team, I don’t”

“How? How could you not trust the people who are out there for your safety?” He tried to keep his anger at her contained, he wasn’t here to argue with her, but sometimes she made that a hard task. “They’re risking their lives for this government”

“Are they?” She raised an eyebrow at him “The Inauguration had more security than press, and somehow Emerson got through anyway. There was a high alert for him, and somehow somebody still let him in. He got close enough with a gun for me to make a shot at him, why could nobody contain him? Can you tell me that? He’s not superhuman, he was one man yet I had to take the shot anyway. I don’t trust them.” She stared at him challengingly, daring him to make a comment but what could he say? Everything she had said was absolutely true.

Emerson never should have made it to the checkpoint, let alone the press area with a gun on him. He’d somehow got past security checks, metal detectors and pat down searches. She was right, how did one man manage to get past security after already making one shot on target and get positioned to make a second? Security was supposed to be the tightest it had ever been, yet this wasn’t just one slip, there had been several.

“You think there’s someone corrupt working on the inside” he deduced, and she maybe she had a point.

“Not just one person” she shrugged, as if she were talking about something trivial “Maybe a few, I just don’t see how they couldn’t hold him down, and how they got my mother out of there so fast, but they left it to you and Miller to get me out and deal with an active shooter”

The fear was bright in her eyes now, and his sense of safety in the job was dwindling. He wasn’t just protecting her from angry public members, but the possibility of an inside job. She looked so much younger, more vulnerable and scared. “I won’t let anything happen to you” He promised, and she gave him a small, guarded smile.

The next day, a pack of White plain t shirts was handed to him at the start of his shift, Clarke didn’t care to explain, just sat with a bottle of Whiskey and watched the news.

“What’s this?” He asked carefully, turning them over in his hands. They were his size, and brand new. Softer, more expensive material than the cheap ones he was planning on buying.

“Shirts” She muttered with a roll of her eyes, not taking her eyes off the television.

“I see that? From where?”

“Internet”

Bellamy took a deep breath “Okay, why?”

“Because you need some of your own, you cant keep using Millers”

Bellamy’s face burnt a little, in surprise and shame. “How did you know this was Millers shirt?”

“Because I spilt red wine on that shirt, that’s what the stain is”

He flushed, scrambling for an excuse “I was going to buy a pack payday, its just money’s a bit tight.” Embarrassed wasn’t even the word for what he was feeling right now, mortified would probably suit it better. He didn’t want to feel like a goddamn charity case at work.

“It’s fine” Clarke shrugged nonchalantly “I don’t know when your payday is, but you cant wear the same shirt all the time”

He wanted to snap and tell her he didn’t need her pity, but she genuinely seemed like she couldn’t care less. Maybe this wasn’t a charity case, maybe it was just her buying him a new shirt because he needed one.

“Thanks” He murmured quietly, touched if not embarrassed by the gesture.

“Don’t mention it” she muttered.

+

After two days off work listening to Octavia freak out about assignments and boys not texting her back, he was actually glad to get back to work.

That was until he got there.

Any progress he thought he’d made with Clarke was now non existent. He’d been lucky so far to not see the manic depressive side of her, but it was here in full force now. She glared whenever he tried to speak, or breathed too loudly. She shouted at him when he had the television on too loud, and again when she said it was too quiet.

He was close to throwing the remote at her.

His saving grace surprisingly came in a friend request on Facebook off Gina. His messenger pinged and he winced when Clarke threw him a withering look. He clicked silent mode on and checked his messages.

_She driving you insane yet?_

He smiled, and typed back _just a little, so far the TVs been too loud, too quiet, the wrong news channel, too bright, not informative enough, the news anchor’s wearing the wrong colour and the weather girl has an annoying voice. I dread to think about what she’ll say about the 5’o clock news._

He smirked at the line of laughing face emojis. They carry on talking, about nothing in particular, other annoying Clients Gina’s team works with, he talks a bit about the guys he was in the army with, every now and then he’ll comment what’s new on the rolling news.

Eventually, Clarke stands abruptly and stalks into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her bad mood. She emerges them minutes later, dressed in jeans and a sweater not thick enough to keep away the February chill.

“Cars coming in five” she tells him, fixing a thick leather strapped watch onto her wrist.

“What? Where are you going?” There was nothing on the itinerary, and Miller hadn’t mentioned anything about her leaving today.

“Out” she snapped, shrugging on a jacket. Bellamy huffed, but checked the car when it came. He sat in the front, letting Clarke sit in stony silence by herself in the back.

After what seemed like an age, they pulled up what looked like a small, somewhat abandoned garage, the shutters down and no lights on the indicate there was anyone here. He opened the door for Clarke anyway, not convinced they were at the right place though.

“You don’t need to check this place” She muttered on the walk up to the shutters.

“I don’t think so” He snapped “it looks dodgy enough from the outside, god knows what’s waiting in there”

She stopped dead, Making him wheel around to face her. “I said you’re not checking it. Raven doesn’t appreciate people messing in her stuff” she pushed passed him and started banging on the shutter. “It’s me open up” She shouted. Great way to let half the state where she was.

Despite looking abandoned the shutters opened, and a tall brunette stood looking at Clarke impassively. “I wondered if you’d show your face today” she almost snarled, but Clarke didn’t look fazed. Instead she pulled a bottle of whiskey out her bag, and Raven stood to the side to let them in.

They were in a car workshop, crowded and smelling of oil. An old Corolla sat stripped back on the ramps. Bellamy stood to the side as Raven made room on a small metal table for herself and Clarke to sit at. She grabbed two whiskey glasses and poured them both two knuckles worth.

Clarke raised her glass, Raven clinked her own against it “To him” She said softly.

“To him” Raven agreed.

They drank mostly in silence, occasionally one of them would talk about an unnamed man fondly, stories of ‘this one time we – ’ and ‘he once said – ’. The conversation would lull between stories, both lost in their own heads.

It was Raven who started crying first, angry and loathing she looked to Clarke and said “Do you ever blame yourself for him dying?”

Clarke didn’t flinch, or frown or cry or react in any sort of a way. She simply nodded and responded “All the time”.

Raven pulled out a necklace from under her tank top, a delicate metal bird perched on the chain. “Did he make you one too?”

Clarke nodded and pulled a necklace from under her sweater, instead of a bird, a Deer hung on the chain. Raven laughed bitterly through her tears. “Of course he did. He only ever made those for people he loved” she spat the last word out like it physically hurt to say, but Clarke still made no reaction.

Bellamy wondered who it was, maybe Wells, but he couldn’t see how Clarke could blame herself for his death. Wells had been stabbed by a young girl, just a teenager who was angry and confused. She killed herself that same night, threw herself off a bridge and nobody would ever understand just what had gone through her head.

Clarke stood to leave when the last of the whiskey had been drank, jerking her head at Bellamy to go check the car. Honestly he was glad to get out the room. The tension was eating away at him and at some point someone was going to snap.

Raven was hugging Clarke at the shutter when he got back. “Don’t wait so long to bring around the good stuff next time”

Clarke raised an eyebrow “I like to save it for special occasions”

Raven snorted and squeezed her hand as Clarke walked away. Bellamy held the door open for her and got in the front, letting her sit in her own company, since he doubted she’d want his.

In her apartment, she went straight for a bottle of Vodka and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her again. Bellamy could only pray Murphy decided to come to work early tonight.

It took an hour for Clarke to resurface, only for her to dive into the bathroom and loudly puke up the contents of her stomach, which was only really Whiskey and Vodka. It was ten minutes after that he decided he needed to check if she’d silently choked and needed resuscitating. While he wasn’t opposed to giving her mouth to mouth, he’d rather not if she’d choked on her own vomit.

He knocked the door and called out, when there was no response he slowly opened the door.

Clarke was sat curled in on herself, knees pulled up her chest, tears tracks down her face and eyes puffy from crying. She looked up at him as he approached and sniffled.

“I loved him too” She whimpered, resting her chin on her knees. “I loved him and I wasn’t allowed to say anything when he died. They said it would make press.”

Bellamy nodded despite not really having a clue what was happening. He sat on the floor next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her shoulder shook as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I loved him too” was all she said. He waited until she was calmer, the alcohol making her sleepy now. He held her around the waist and under her knees and lifted her, she was stupidly light but that wasn’t surprising considering she never ate anything. Her head rolled onto his shoulder, already passed out and breathing evenly. He put her down on her bed, and took a moment to marvel at how much younger she looked like this, without a scowl or pout hanging off her lips, she looked her age now.

It was hard to imagine she was only a few years older than Octavia, yet there was an entire world between them. For the first time, he wondered if having money actually made her life any easier. It certainly made her more of a target, and it didn’t protect her from heartbreak.

He was more than grateful to see his own bed that night, though he knew this job was taking him down a long road he wasn’t sure he wanted to be on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the three month wait for this! I hope this perfectly average chapter makes up for it?

If Bellamy went another day without conversation, he’d probably go mad.

Scrap that, he would definitely go mad. Clarke had done nothing but drink and puke. He’d practically had to shove a slice of pizza down her throat, he wasn’t fully convinced she didn’t go and throw it up later that night anyway. She spent most of her time that wasn’t consumed drinking glaring at the television or at him. 

So he asks Gina out, and they go to a bar after work, and he can’t even begin to explain how good it feels to just sit and talk, to laugh and drink with someone who isn’t his sister or Clarke. Gina listens sympathetically to his bitching, and she adds in her own horror stories, including the time she got drunk before a state dinner and threw up on Murphy. He kept in mind that he’s definitely have to bring that up at some point in both of their presence. 

Most of all, it was nice to be around some he actually liked. His years in the army meant one night stands with zero chance of commitment, he couldn’t afford to get attached to anyone – after his mothers death he didn’t want to get attached, he had a sister to take care of and that was his main priority in life. But now he was putting food on the table – real, actual hot food that wasn’t pasta and jarred sauce, Octavia cut her hours down at the coffee shop and was able to focus more on her studies, and he was able to ask someone out on an actual date. 

He doesn’t regret it one bit, even driving to work the next day, hungover with a flask of the strongest coffee he could bare to make when he’d dragged himself out of bed this morning.

He did regret it when he got to Clarkes apartment and Clarke and Murphy were hanging out the fire escape window smoking and arguing over rock bands. 

“Jesus it’s seven in the morning, you’re usually not even human until eleven” He muttered as he flicked the kettle on.

“Good morning to you too old man” Clarke snorted “Who pissed in your shoes this morning?”

Bellamy pointedly ignored her, he was here as security, not to entertain her. 

“He’s just tired from his hot date last night” Murphy smirked, flicking his cigarette and ducking back into the kitchen. Clarke pulled herself up further onto the window ledge and lit another cigarette. 

“Ooh hot date? A real one, or an imaginary one like Murphy has” Clarke grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“My girlfriend is real, thank you very much” Murphy glared “but Bellamy’s is much more interesting, I have it on good authority he was out with Gina until the early hours of the morning”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, he had no idea how Murphy got that information but he had. 

“Who’s Gina?” Clarke asked curiously, Murphy rolled his eyes at her.

“The woman who makes you look half decent when you have to be on camera?”

“The makeup artist, got it” she took a puff of her cigarette, but didn’t comment further. Bellamy was grateful for it, really – but he half expected a comment. He made a coffee for himself and Clarke, who muttered about it not being Irish but he didn’t pay any attention to it. 

“So apart from someone’s girlfriend sneaking in through the fire escape, it was a pretty uneventful night” Murphy told him as he shrugged on his coat.

“She was not sneaking in” Clarke scoffed, Murphy raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah? Then why didn’t she use the front door?”

Clarke paused and frowned into her coffee “Who knows why Lexa does anything” she finally settled on, a hint of sadness to her voice that Murphy ignored. The door slammed shut behind him, and a serene quiet settled over the place, eventually interrupted by Clarke shuffling out the window. “Come on” She called, leaving Bellamy powerless but to follow her. 

The metal of the fire escape staircase was cold and hard under him, but he didn’t mind when Clarke shuffled too close and offered him a cigarette. 

Winter meant driving to work in the dark and driving home in the dark, never really seeing the daylight as Clarke had an extreme aversion to leaving her apartment. But now he gets to sit and watch as the sky slowly turned pink and purple, hints of orange glowed at the horizon. 

Clarke sat on the cold metal floor under the window, smudges of paint on a palette as she captured the sunrise almost perfectly considering how fast her hands were moving.

It was less leafy around where Clarke lived, away from bustle of the city, but still close enough that it didn’t feel like you were stranded in the middle of where. Clarke managed to make the high-rise buildings in the distance look sleepy, cozy almost, it was a romanticised version of their view. 

Bellamy could see how she made money off her paintings if this one was anything to go by. 

It was peaceful, comfortable and quiet and they sat watching the sunrise, Clarke painting and Bellamy sipping coffee. It was the polar opposite of the last week, where they’d sat in stony silence, air fraught and tensions high. 

When the sun was past the buildings in the distance, and all the coffee had gone, they climbed in through the window and took a moment to bask in the heat of the room. Clarke laughed and inspected her raw red fingers.

“I didn’t even realise how cold it was outside.”

Bellamy had, but he just didn’t pay any attention, his focus as elsewhere, on the way the colourful morning reflected on Clarkes golden hair, the way the bit her lip in concentration and how she smiled a bit smugly and jutted her chin out when she took a moment to look over the painting proudly. 

He grabbed a tea towel from the draw and wrapped it around her hands gently, squeezing her hands a bit when they were wrapped. 

“You don’t want to warm them up too quickly” he explained, staring hard at the towel, but Clarke kept slipping into his focus – her shivery breaths and floral perfumes. Last nights mascara smudged around her eyes, making the blue more intense, deeper and soulful. He took a step back when he realised he was staring. “Yeah, just keep them wrapped up for a bit.”

“Thanks” she smiled fleetingly, like she wasn’t even thinking about it, yet it still made his head go funny. He stepped away, suddenly overwhelmed by her closeness.

It was going to be a long day. 

Gina flopped on the sofa next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Rough few hours?” He teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“The worst” she scoffed, there was a shimmer over her face which he was guessing wasn’t originally apart of her make up, and a hint of pink lipstick smudged across her cheek.

“Well you look like you had a fight with your make up bag” he smirked as she rolled her eyes and wiped her cheeks.

It was an important night, not just for the president, but the whole country. If Abby Griffin could get a trade deal with Azgeda, formally a hostile country sharing their borders, armed with an untouchable army that not even the president herself could get past. 

But according to Abby, there was a deal that would ensure a fair trade and increased business on both parts. If it went well, the country could look a little brighter – even with Abby Griffin in charge. If it went badly though – the already fraught relationship could crumble entirely and leave them open to an attack.

“Yeah well” Gina muttered “you try doing Clarkes make up when she’s in a bad mood, it would have been easier to heard sheep.”

“She’s not that bad” He muttered, not really sure why he was defending her; maybe it was the softness the day before, sat outside at sunrise watching her sketch, seeing her look truly happy for the first time had changed his opinion on her, there was a spark of humanity under the alcohol and mood swings.

“I’ll take your word for it” she smiled half heartedly. Octavia emerged from the depth of her assignments and curled up on the ratty armchair, flicking through the channels until she found a new channel where the state dinner where being shown live, but the commentators still treated it like a trashy reality show and commented on what everyone was wearing or if they had lipstick on their teeth.

He shrugged and settled down as the commentators announced Abby and Clarke were coming out to greet Nia and Roan Winters. Abby came out first, standing on the top of the steps in a shimmering emerald gown, smiling tightly but staring ahead at the same spot, nerves written all over her face.

Then Clarke came out to stand next to her, and Bellamy hoped his breath catching wasn’t noticeable. She was beautiful, in a low cut black strapless gown, split too high at the thigh for her conservative mothers status, but still made it look tasteful. It wasn’t the dress that caught his eye though, or the exposed milky skin of her neck, only interrupted by the smooth blonde curls cascading down her shoulders. It was the smile, radiant and genuine looking that enhanced her beauty. She leant in to say something to Abby, whose nervous smile was replaced by a surprised laugh as the black Limosines pulled up to The White House. Clarke whispered something else that made Abbys face soften, Bellamy thought back to what Murphy sad about them acting like the perfect mother and daughter in public, but this didn’t seem like an act; it seemed genuine and personal, like he was intruding on a private moment.

Nia was the ice queen everybody had made her out to be, stern faced with a steely glare as she almost marched up the steps, her silver gown flowing behind her. Her son, Roan – probably a little older than him stood bored behind her, in a tux that looked stitched onto him. 

He could feel the country collectively hold their breath as Abby stepped forward to shake Nia’s hand, even Gina leant forward a little.

Both women smiled, maybe a little strained but it definitely wasn’t a dooming smile. Clarke stepped forward and pressed an air kiss on either side of Roan’s cheeks, he caught her hand and kissed it, bowing a little. Even through the screen he could see her blush. He said something to make her loud loudly – loud enough for the cameras to pick it up anyway – and flick her hair over her shoulders. There was an almost – flirty exchange between them that had to new commentators going mad, already speculating on a relationship, maybe even marriage between the two if all went well with the trade deal, obviously not knowing about Clarkes secret girlfriend.

He didn’t know what that made his stomach sink so much, when he had Gina next to him soft and warm tucked into his side, willingly here with him. She was everything he could possible want, funny and clever, pretty and quick witted, his sister loved her, though that was mainly to do with the make overs and boy advice that Bellamy refused to give, but still, he couldn’t want anything more than what he had.

So why did he still want Clarke?

The call to meet the car came three hours later, which meant he was hour away from having to meet Clarke at The White House. Gina was half asleep of his shoulder, he nudged her away, smiling at her sleepy expression. 

“I’ve got to go to work” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. 

“Already?” She yawned, eyes slowly focusing on the clock “Oh shit, I should get going”

The car was already waiting for him when he got outside, he didn’t bother checking the drivers ID, he figured he probably wasn’t out to kill him so he climbed in and tried his best not to think about seeing Clarke in that black dress, but it was a long drive, and there wasn’t enough to distract him. 

He was grateful when he got to The White House, if anything it meant the night was closer to being over. He flashed his security badge and followed the corridor to where Clarke was. A mass of security stood outside the room, most of which he didn’t recognise, assuming to was Azgedas personal security. He gave a nod to Kane who made his way over, glaring at the unfamiliar guards.

“Ridiculous” Kane muttered as he stood next to Bellamy. “You’d think we didn’t have any security with the amount they’ve brought. There’s more outside too”

Bellamy wanted to remind him that they let an active shooter into a press area and failed to restrain them long enough for him to get a shot at Clarke, so he didn’t really blame Azgeda for wanting their own security. Of course if he did remind Kane of that, he’d probably lose his job, so he nodded curtly in acknowledgment instead. 

“Anything to report sir?”

“No, nothing got through half of Azgedas Army so its been a successful meet” He huffed, Bellamy had to restrain himself from smiling. “Nothing to handover from Miller, except she’s in a bad mood, but I’ll talk to her about that”

Bellamy frowned “You’ll talk to her about being in a bad mood?” He questioned.

“I can’t change her moods, but she’s got to stop antagonising you when she is in a bad mood. The last thing I need is to be looking for an entire new security detail for her because she made you all leave.”

Bellamy must have got it mild if Miller and Murphy were talking about leaving. The worst he got was the occasional temper tantrum and the silent treatment, the worst of it was when she went to the garage and drank herself into a coma, he figured she had a reason to be in a bad mood though so he’d just ignored it in the end. 

“They’re getting ready to leave anyway” Kane pulled him out of is thoughts gratefully “They’ll go any a public goodbye, to show everything went well then they’re coming back here. Take Clarke out through the back entrance, security checks as usual”

Bellamy nodded and Kane stalked off, back to glaring at any security guard that wasn’t part of his team. He’d just began to relax a little, figuring they’d probably be a little while longer when the door opened and Abby Griffin walked out, Nia at her side talking low. Roan and Clarke came out then, and Bellamy had somehow managed to get the imagine of Clarke out of his head until that moment, seeing her on the television did nothing to how she looked in the flesh. Her dress would look painted on if it wasn’t for the movement of the material exposing too much of her leg. She shot a glare at him, withering and venomous, maybe he’d given her bad moods too much credit earlier. 

Roan placed a hand on her waist as they stalked through the Corridor, Azgeda security moving fluidly out the way, practiced to perfection. Clarkes laugh rang out and bounced off the walls, pretty and delicate as she looked up to Roan. Bellamy felt a strange sort of protectiveness – but the word didn’t seem to fit right, maybe possessiveness, but he had no need to be possessive when she wasn’t his, he wasn’t interested in making her his. 

“Still a brat” one of Azgedas security muttered with a roll of his eyes. Next to him, another guard, tall and bulky, a intricate tattoo trailing up his neck and jaw snorted.

“Somethings never change. I heard Roan say she’s basically a recluse since little Jaha died. Only comes out for public events to play happy families. Must be a nice change from the days you’d only see her in a nightclub”

Bellamy frowned to himself, as far as he was aware this was the first meeting between them, but Azgeda spoke like Clarke and Roan were old friends. If she were in a better mood, he’d question it. But from the look she’d given him earlier it was best to keep his mouth shut unless he wanted to be turned to stone. 

On a signal, Azgedas security filtered out the side exit, no doubt they’d be in following cars, which meant goodbyes had been said and he was a step closer to getting back to Clarkes apartment and this whole night being over with. 

He stood to attention as Clarke and Abby finally made their way down the hall, casually talking like – well, like a mother and daughter. It was a rare sight when they were alone, they usually just ignored each other in frosty silence. Clarke glared over at him and jerked her head to go do his final sweep before they left.

“ – wasn’t even convinced it was a real place until a couple of years ago” Bellamy hung back out of sight, not exactly eavesdropping on what Clarke was saying, it was more letting her finish her conversation, which he ha to listen out for.

“You actually thought it was a made up place?” That was Abby, delicately snorting. He could imagine Clarke rolling her eyes.

“Well no ones actually been there. I told Roan that one night and he never let it down, told everyone I thought he came from Canada”

Abby laughed, and after a beat Clarke joined in too. “Seriously, five years later and he still tells people” 

“Your father and I spent hours telling you about treaty agreements with Azgeda, and you told the presidents son you thought it was a made up place”

“well I obviously wasn’t listening” Clarke snorted, and Abby laughed again. Bellamy took that moment to make himself known.

“Cars ready” He nodded, Clarke threw him a withering look over her shoulder, then turned back to her mother.

“I’m calling it a night, tell Kane to update Murphy on the times for next week. If securities working over I was going to ask him to give them the time back using agency nights?”

Abby shrugged “see what he thinks, or whether security want it as overtime”

“I’ll let Kane deal with it, it’s his department. See you next week” Clarke leant forward to kiss her mothers cheek briskly, then turn turned on her heel to stalk past Bellamy.

He pulled open the door for her and walked ahead to open the car door for her. Sliding in next to her he nodded to the driver to go, and stared out the window as Clarke stared mindlessly at her phone. He hoped to go she’d go straight to bed when they got back and not hang around making his life hell. 

“How’d your night in with Gina go?” She murmured, trying to sound blasé, but he could hear the annoyance laced in her voice.

“How did you know I was with Gina tonight?”

From the glow of her phone screen, he could see her roll her eyes. “My hair and make up team talk around me like I don’t exist, I know all about their lives”

Bellamy’s brows knit together “They shouldn’t talk over you like that”

Clarke half heartedly shrugged “Everybody does it. Works fine for me, say nothing hear everything”

He thought about the open plan set of her apartment, no corners to hide out and whisper, she could see and hear everything that was going on.

“Well its still not right” he muttered, the strange feeling of protectiveness coming over him again.

Clarke didn’t answer for a beat, they were getting closer to her apartment now and he couldn’t have been more grateful, hopefully she’d forget about…

“You still didn’t tell me how your night with Gina was”

Bellamy huffed “It was fine, we ordered take out and watched TV with my sister, then I came to work”

“Sounds very domesticated” she smirked and he shook his head.

“Wait until you get to my age, the days of clubbing are out”

“Oh come on” She laughed finally, delicate and light, like he’d heard when she was with Roan. “You’re barely thirty”

“You’re barely twenty five and you don’t go clubbing”

“Yeah well I exhausted out my days of clubbing before Wells died” it was the first time she’d mentioned Wells to him, if he didn’t count her breakdown the other night, who that was about was still up for debate. 

“Fair enough” He shrugged, not wanting to bring up Wells in case it triggered a breakdown, and frankly he wasn’t up to dealing with that tonight, especially when his memorial was a week away, that was going to be traumatic enough.

He had to hold in a sigh when they finally pulled up to her apartment building, taking his time checking her apartment, it was a few minutes without her to just breathe. Especially if she was going to give him the third degree about his dating life.

She threw her purse on the coffee table when they got in and kicked off her heels, shrinking considerably. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her, he hoped that was it for the night; the door would stay shut until miller came in at seven. It was close on midnight now, so he switched on the rolling news and set up the CCTV on the laptop.

Clarkes bedroom door creaked open, she’d pushed her hair to the side, and ditched the long dangling earrings.

“Hey, unzip me please, I can’t reach” she turned her back to him, and he tried not to actually touch the exposed skin of her neck and back as he pulled the zip down. Being so close, he could smell her floral perfume – the same one he’d got intoxicated in the other day – and see the light reflect off the delicate gold chain around her neck. His heart beat a little faster and a little harder, she shouldn’t have that kind of effect on him, he shouldn’t have the urge to lean down and kiss the milky skin of her shoulder.

He focused on the zip, which didn’t help his current situation when the zip came to a stop and exposed her lacy underwear that looked like it could have been painted onto her skin.

He stepped back, swallowing hard and trying to rub his sweating palms off on his trousers. “Done” He tried not to sound as breathless as he felt, but failed miserably.

“Thanks” She didn’t sound nearly as effected as him, but she hadn’t moved from the spot either. 

Just as he thought she was about to move, she dropped the dress down her feet, naked except the black lacy underwear that sunk perfectly into her ass. He tried his best to look away, but his head seemed to be disconnected from his body and couldn’t make it move. She bent down to gather the dress over her arm, and flicked her hair over her shoulder so it fell down her bare back.

“See you next week” She called over her shoulder, and sauntered back into her bedroom, the door clicking softly behind her.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn’t a particularly exciting chapter, there was more to it in the plan but I’m saving that for the next chapter because it was turning into an epic! I swear something will actually happen next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

He was lucky, really that Murphy was desperate for overtime. He’d taken Bellamy’s shifts weeks ago, at the time he was annoyed, but let him have them. But after Saturday nights incident, he was more than happy not to be going back until Friday.

He hadn’t told anyone about what Clarke had done, what was he meant to say? _Hey Kane, I undid Clarkes dress Saturday night and she stripped down almost naked and said goodnight_. He’d probably be sacked and then he’d be back to square one. He hadn’t told Miller and Murphy, they’d probably just mock him endlessly about. He couldn’t tell Gina, that would open an entirely new can of worms he didn’t need in a new relationship.

So he kept it to himself, trying to singe the image of her from his eyelids. It hadn’t worked, and now he had to admit that he might be attracted to her.

But that was totally normal, she was attractive, and he spent a hell of a lot of time with her.

Sometimes she was even nice to him.

As long as he pushed his feelings completely down and barely looked at her, he’d be fine.

Friday morning brought a ominous fog over the city, freezing the tree branches and making the road sparkle. It would be pretty if it wasn’t so damn cold.

Clarke would probably want to do something ridiculous like sit on the fire escape and paint it, so he wrapped up, digging out his thick coat and gloves and headed out to his truck.

He’d long gotten used to the cranky noises his truck made, the radio stopped working the day after they bought it – definitely a conspiracy against him – so his thoughts were the only thing to keep him company.

Today his thoughts were not his friend. He was worried, about how Clarke would act today. Would she pull another stunt like Saturday night? Or would she be in a mood and make his life hell. Both scenarios were bad when he was working a 14 hour shift with her. The days were a drag when she was in a good mood, it was torture when she was in a bad mood.

At least Gina wasn’t working today, she promised to text him, keep him sane throughout the day.

Begrudgingly, he climbed the stairs after he’d drained the last of his coffee. Pausing outside her door, a grim feeling settled over him as he noticed the bright light filtering into the hallways and the sound of Clarke and Murphy shouting echoed around him.

With a deep breath, he pushed open the door, completely unprepared for the scene in front of him. Clarke was sat with her head in her hands, half drank bottle of wine of the floor and clearly sobbing. Murphy stood tense at the kitchen table, a smaller, wiry kid sat haunches over a laptop.

Murphy’s head snapped up as the door shut behind him. “Oh thank god its you” He muttered, jerking his head to beckon him over.

With one last curious glance at Clarke, he stood next to Murphy, expecting one hell of a handover.

“Did you listen to the news coming?” Murphy asked tersely.

“No, my truck doesn’t get radio. What the hells going on?”

Murphy looked over at Clarke worriedly, then back to the computer screen. “Everything was normal until, maybe eleven last night. She got a text demanding money or they’d hack her phone. We shrugged it off, sent it in to Kane, he told us to ignore it. Half eleven she got another text saying she had 30 minutes to send the money to some bank account. Sent it back to Kane, he told up to ignore it. Midnight shit hit the fan” he pointed to the laptop, the kid changed the screen and Bellamy couldn’t contain his gasp.

Clarke – or a younger Clarke – was at what looked like a house party, red cups and beer bottles littered across the floor behind her, but that’s not what got his attention. Clarke was in a stupidly short dress, light up sunglasses over her eyes and laughing at the camera, with one of her legs hitched up Roan, who had one arm around her waist and the other gripping her bare thigh.

“A throwaway twitter account posted it, tagging news teams the deleted it ten minutes after. The damage was done by then” he muttered, staring hard at the photo “we thought whoever posted it was trying to sabotage the Azgeda deal but” Murphy shrugged and nudged the kid.

Another picture, this time of Clake grinning at the camera with a floppy haired guy kissing her cheek. They seemed to be at some sort of function, if the guys tux and Clarkes gold dress was any indication.

“Who’s that?” Bellamy asked, he’d never seen him in any event he’d been to with clarke, and he’d never seen him about in the news, not that he kept up that much with current events until he’d started on Clarkes team.

Murphy looked over to Clarke again – now say back in the arm chair staring blankly ahead, and lowered his voice.

“Finn Collins. He and Clarke were together for a few months last year, personally I thought he was a douche but I wasn’t dating him so I didn’t care. Clarke did though, probably the only person she’s ever said she loved. Turns out he had another girlfriend, they’d been together since they were teenagers – you met Raven right? The mechanic” Bellamy nodded in confirmation, pieces slowly falling into place. “He and Clarke got into this massive fight after she met Raven completely by chance and figured out she was being played, she tried to break it off with him but he insisted he was coming to talk to her. Except he never showed up, so she went looking for him” Murphy’s expression softened as he looked to Clarke.

“She found his car in a ditch at the side of a road, pulled him out and tried to resuscitate him, but he was already dead, lost too much blood at this point.”

“Jesus” Bellamy muttered, this is what she’d gotten so worked up about the other week. So wonder she’d drank herself into a coma, he probably would have too.

“She wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral, or talk about him, they wouldn’t even acknowledge that she knew him because of the bad press it would bring. Wells died a few weeks after and she just completely went over the edge, never recovered after that”

Bellamy felt a pang of guilt for ever just assuming she was just a spoilt rich kid with no problems in life, when the reality of her life was complex. She’d lost her boyfriend after being betrayed by him, then her best friend just weeks later. Now she was being shot at and her personal life strewn across the news channels for anyone to pick apart.

“So what’s happening now?” He asked, trying look at the laptop but not really understanding, the kid was typing at lightning speed, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Monty here” Murphy slapped the kids back, he stopped typing to glare up at Murphy. “Was called in after the picture of Finn was uploaded. He’s a nerd”

Monty rolled his eyes “Asshole” he muttered, then turned to Bellamy “so far I’ve blocked three attempts at hacking her phone, there’s no security on it whatsoever, so I updated it but whoever’s doing it is trying real hard to get around it. I can’t trace where the signals coming from, their securities tight, every time I think I’ve found a way in they abandon it and go to a different server. They’re smart, I’ll give them that”

“Any theories?” Bellamy asked, Murphy shrugged.

“My guess was someone trying to sabotage the Azgeda deal, maybe even Azgeda themselves but – ”

“But that’s not Azgedas style” Clarke said from behind, making them jump. She’d walked over silently, now standing there like a ghost – pale and gaunt, her eyes red rimmed from crying. “If Azgeda didn’t want the deal to go ahead I don’t think they’d be going through my phone. They’d be attacking The White House.”

She had a point, this seemed like a personal vendetta against her. From what little he knew about her, he wouldn’t be overly surprised if she had enemies that wanted to expose any secrets she was hiding.

“Your theories then?” Murphy snapped, Clarke rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“Roan doesn’t give a shit about the deal and there’s pictures on the phone that make him look a hell of a lot worse than me. Raven doesn’t exactly want Finns affair all over the news. So that just leaves all the people that don’t want my mother as President – so I’d say most the country”

“Right. Thanks for narrowing it down for us” Murphy muttered as Clarke waked away with a fresh bottle of wine.

“Anytime” she called over her shoulder. Bellamy snorted, then there was a tense silence as Monty’s fingers worked furiously across the keyboard.

“Another attack” he muttered, Murphy shook his head and Bellamy gritted his teeth, whoever it was wasn’t happy with the two photos they’d exposed – they were probably looking for more, going for blood.

Bellamy wondered what more there was to come, how much worse it was going to get. Hopefully no worse if Monty did his job properly. This was supposed to be an easy job, up until Wells was killed he’d never heard of that many attacks against Presidents children, and never really to this extent – but his guess was they were going for more of an emotional impact, much like the attack against Clarke at Abbys Inauguration. Emerson wanted Abby to feel what he felt when his family died. Clarke was the only family Abby had left, which put a big fat target on Clarkes back.

“Text” Monty shouted to Clarke, she stalked over, picking up her phone from where it was plugged into the laptop. She brows furrowed and lips twisted into a scowl.

“_This was a distraction._ What the hells that supposed to mean?” Clarke snapped, looking over to Murphy and Monty, it looked like their stomachs sunk just as Bellamys had. Did it mean to photos were a distraction? From what? What could possibly be worse than what they were already doing?

_‘So Clarkes abandoned me to go schmooze’_

The voice came clearly from the television, Clarke paled and turned on her heel, gasping “Finn”.

Everyone crowded to the living room, staring at the television in shock.

Clarke was in a gold sequinned dress, tight fitting like the one from the other night. Her hair was longer, and from the shaky camera she looked younger as she laughed politely at something an older man was saying.

_‘Schmoozing, am I using that right? I’m sure Clarke will tell me if I’m not’ _said a voice from behind the Camera. Clarke looked over then, and gave a small, secret smile like she was in on a joke no one else knew. She turned back to the man and said something, clearly excusing herself. She grinned as she walked back towards the camera, it flipped then – showing the floppy haired guy from earlier. Clarke wound her arms around his shoulders and rests her head on his shoulder, he kisses her hair and she beams.

The scenes so domestic, so normal – what you’d expect from a couple in love, it was hard to believe it was an affair.

_‘Why are you filming?’_ Its Clarke, eyes closed on Finns shoulder but there’s a serene smile on her face that would look foreign now.

_‘I was bored and you abandoned me’_

Clarke looks up at him mock offended _‘I would never’ _she squeaks and he laughs _‘Duty called’ _she says it like it’s a dirty word, and Bellamy wonders what life was like then, as the daughter of the Vice President, she wasn’t nearly as known as she was now, Wells was still alive, she hadn’t known half the tragedy she did now.

_“Love you’_ Finn says, looking at her like she’s the only person in the room, Clarke breaks into a grin that looks so out of place now.

_‘Love you too” _she leans forward to kiss him on the lips, and the screen cuts back to the news anchor – who will no doubt pick apart the video, but no ones paying attention to them.

Tears stream down Clarkes face silently as she slowly shakes her head. “I need five” she turned on her heel, Bellamy flinched as her bedroom door slammed shut, it seemed to shake the rest of the apartment.

No one said anything for a minute, Monty went back to his laptop, Murphy slumped on the sofa. Bellamy just stood there, thinking back to the mechanic, and what must have been the Anniversary of Finns death. That Clarke had tried to resuscitate him and still blamed herself for his death. It was no wonder she was an alcoholic.

“Shit” Monty cursed from the kitchen, Murphy and Bellamy exchanged a worried look.

“What now?” Murphy snapped

“Them hacking her phone was the distraction”

Murphy paused, mirroring Bellamys confused expression. “Distraction from what?”

“They’ve already downloaded everything from her phone”

Clarke appeared in the bedroom doorway then, eyes wide and distraught. “Everything?” She demanded.

Monty nodded grimly “Everything, texts, photos, emails, it was already downloaded when they got the picture of Roan, they were using the hacking as a distraction so you wouldn’t notice.”

“Well isn’t that fantastic. Why have they only used three things?”

“Maybe they’re hoping you’ll send the money in” Murphy suggested, Clarke picked up her phone and unplugged it from the computer unceremoniously.

“Hey! I still need to try and track where the signal came from” Monty protested, but Clarke ignored him, putting her to her ear.

“Pay the money” she almost snarled, Bellamy could only guess it was Kane, or maybe Abby. It was lucky whoever was on the other end of the call couldn’t see the venomous glare at their words, they’d combust on the spot.

“I don’t care about your not negotiating with terrorists bullshit” she snapped “Monty just said they’ve downloaded everything from my phone, and unless you want unsavoury pictures and Government secrets out to the whole of the country you’ll pay them the damn money”

There was a tense silence, they couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone was saying, but it definitely wasn’t pleasing Clarke. She let out a frustrated growl and shoved the phone back at Monty. “Find whoever the hells doing this so I can go beat them up”

No one said a word as Monty plugged the phone in and started typing again. None of them knew exactly what was going on, but they all watched as if the answer was going to suddenly pop up.

Finally, Monty broke the silence. “Are there really government secrets on your phone?”

Clarke snorted “God no. I’ve got better things to talk about than them.”

Murphy gave him a wry smirk, Monty rolled his eyes and carried on typing. It felt like ages until something knew came up on the television screen. “Here we go” Murphy muttered as they piled in front.

_“In a recent development from leaked content of Clarke Griffins personal phone, an affair between Miss Griffin and a friends Fiancé have emerged. Finn Collins, shown in earlier leaked video footage was already engaged to Clarke Griffins close friend Raven Reyes” _The news reporter grimly announced, looking stonily at the Camera, almost like she was staring in direct disapproval of Clarke.

She shook her head, no tears this time, but her face was getting redder by the second. “That’s not what happened” her voice was weak, cracking with emotion at the end.

_“Reports from those closest to the situation say Finn Collins was driving to Clarke Griffins apartment after the affair was exposed, but died after his car skidded into a ditch on the icy roads.”_

“They’re twisting it” She whispered “Theres no one close to the situation that would say it was an affair”

Going on what Murphy had said, Clarke had been blindsided by Finns other relationship, and he’d never said that he had a fiancée, which meant whoever had hacked her phone was probably sending in the wrong information on purpose, twist the story around to make Clarke look worse. But the big question was – why? What were they gaining from making Clarke look bad? If this really was about Abby, why not go after her?

Clarke just stared at the television, no one paying attention to what they were saying, instead she was staring at the full-size picture of her and Finn, this one more casual, them both wearing jeans and wearing Redskins shirts. They were picture of normality, but that left a path of destruction in its wake, leaving Clarke standing distraught for the whole country to once again pick her apart.

Clarke finally collapsed down on the armchair and put her head in her hands, a pained groan overpowering the news anchors take on the so called affair. Murphy turned down the sound, so the only noise in the room was the rapid _tap tap tap_ of the keyboard.

Bellamy felt helpless, in every other situation he’s been in he’s been able to do something, help in some way or another. But now, he’s no good at computers, its not like he can go out and just find whoever was doing this on the streets. As much as he’d like to take a punch at whoever was doing this, it just wasn’t going to happen. He was useless here.

“Phon call” Monty shouted from the table.

“Who is it?” Clarke called back, not taking her head out her hands.

There was a pause, then “Raven”

Clarke groaned again, but made no move to stand. “Tell her I’ve died”

“No” was Monty’s short reply, but Clarke didn’t seem all that bothered.

Bellamy and Murphy finally let themselves sit side by side on the sofa, there was no point going to sit with Monty, they didn’t understand what the hell he was doing, and it wouldn’t do any good to distract him. Clarke probably could have done with a distraction, but Bellamy didn’t know how he’d do that with the News only talking about her leaked pictures and messages.

Really, they should just switch the news off, its not like she doesn’t know what’s on her phone, she doesn’t need to hear what they’re saying about her. But there’s no way in hell that was happening, Clarke was obsessed, the same way she was after the shooting – she just kept watching the footage on repeat, over analysing what people were saying about her and what they thought.

_‘In a more recent development, a new picture has been released rom leaked content of Clarke Griffins phone’_

“Buckle up” Murphy grouched

Clarke looked up and pushed her hair out her face “here we go” she muttered as they all stared at the screen in anticipation.

A picture of her and Lexa this time, barely covered by the covers pulling faces at the camera. Bellamy always got the impression the relationship was meant to be a secret, so whoever was doing this was going for the kill shots now.

_‘Pictures of Clarke Griffin and girlfriend Lexa Woods are the most recent to be leaked from an anonymous source’ _the news anchor announced.

“Oh no” Clarke murmured, not looking nearly as devastated as she had previously, instead, she looked almost…sheepish.

_‘Lexa Woods, a PR manager for the White House just six months ago was responsible for one of the largest employee walk out in history. Thirty six members handed in their notice with immediate effect while under President Thelonious Jaha’s leadership at Lexa Woods instructions. How the relationship between miss Griffin and Miss Woods started is yet to be determined.’_

The room was silent as the picture of Clarke and Lexa once again took full screen, a pin drop probably would have been deafening. So Clarkes phone vibrating made them all jump.

“Erm, Clarke” Monty began, but Clarke cut him off.

“I’m not answering that” she snorted, Murphy gave her a sceptical look.

“She’s your girlfriend” He pointed out.

“Not after I answer the phone she wont be. Let her break up with me on the answer phone, the results going to be the same”

Murphy rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. The news anchors were debating how Lexa and Clarkes relationship started, marvelling at their own bafflement as to how Clarke managed to have an affair, a rumoured relationship with Roan and Wells, and now a somewhat steady relationship with Lexa. Bellamy had to admit, to the shallow – it didn’t sound amazing.

Even if Clarke came out and told the truth about these relationships, it would be too little too late – the damage was done now and everyone had an opinion, they’d assed their judgment and Clarke was once again the bad guy.

Whoever was doing this was getting the results they wanted – if Abby couldn’t control her own daughter, how was she expected to run a country?

Clarke phone vibrated again, she was clenching her jaw, glaring at the TV like she could turn it to stone. “I’m going to throw that fucking the thing out the window once all this is done” She muttered.

“Too late for that now” Murphy snorted, it left a sour taste in the room, because they all knew the damage was done, Clarkes reputation taking the worst hit, closely followed by Abbys credibility as both a mother and President – according to the news anyway.

“I’ve got it” Monty says in disbelief, which has them flocking to the table.

“Please say you’ve got a name” Clarke begged over his shoulder.

“Not a name, but I’ve got a pinpoint on a map” Monty enlarged a map on the laptop, a red pin telling them where the signal was coming from.

“Holy shit” Murphy murmured, Bellamy looked over to Clarke, she was shaking her head in disbelief, taking a step back.

“Where is it?” Bellamy frowned, maybe it him getting old, but he couldn’t focus on where the pin was telling him.

“Number one Observatory Circle” Clarke says quietly “My old house’

“_Vice President _Diana Sydneys new house” Murphy finished for her.

A tense silence fell over them, Monty leant back in his chair, unsure of how to process the new development. None of them were – there was a traitor in the White House, potentially the Vice President of all people. Possibly the person who let Emerson into the inauguration, who sold stories of Clarke to the media.

Why not go after Abby then? Why not go straight to the source of her grievance, it would make more sense than tarnishing Clarkes name.

But maybe that was too obvious, or too hard. It was so secret to them that Abbys security detail was a hell of a lot more intense, there was more of them – and their orders stronger than theirs – protect the president at all costs, whereas theirs was blurry. The orders were to protect Clarke, but with less than half the man power of Abbys team, despite the threats made against her. There was no shoot to kill order, and Kane seemed against them doing it.

Hacking Abbys personal phone or emails might have been too hard, but Clarkes was open. Almost an invitation to hack into it.

Bellamy wondered if Abby would have ever been a target though, would that have been too obvious? Anybody could be hacking Clarkes phone, and the last they’d have never thought it was Diana Sydney.

The target on Clarkes back didn’t disappear when Emerson died, it just became more complex.

Monty’s phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with Kanes name.

“Don’t tell him anything” Clarke commanded, Monty went to protest, but she cut him off with a look. “Remember who’s paying you”

Monty looked conflicted as he picked the phone up. He murmured his greetings, looking up to clarke, he took a deep breath and said “No, sir. They’ve completely eradicated any trace, they’re probably using a burner phone off the grid – I’ll keep looking though”

He hung up the phone and glared at the laptop before slamming it shut. “He said if I cant find any trace to leave it if I think they’re off the grid”

“This information” Clarke gestured to her phone “Doesn’t leave this room, understood?”

Bellamy thought back to what Clarke said after Emerson, that she didn’t trust Kanes team – it seemed she had more than ample reason to be distrustful. He nodded his agreement, trusting Clarke had a plan, because this was honestly above his pay grade.

“Right” Clarke said flatly “You can go then. I’ve already sorted the money out”

Monty nodded and packed up his stuff, telling Clarke he’s updated the security on the phone so even he couldn’t get into it.

“You can go too Murphy. You’ve been awake all night, I appreciate you staying though. I’ll make sure Kane pays you for the overtime”

He nodded unsure, but got his coat and slapped Bellamy on the shoulder on the way past. Clarke stumbled her way back to the sofa and sat back unceremoniously, burying her head in her hands and shoulders shaking.

“Hey” He murmured, sitting down next to her “It’s going to be alright, we know who’s doing it now, and I’m guessing you’ve got some sort of a plan”

“Ive got a plan, its just” She gestured towards the television “It’s everywhere, I’m never going to get away from it. Most of what they said were lies and no ones going to believe me. Poor Raven had to watch her dead boyfriend kissing me and the entire of America’s going to be talking about it. I cant even think about Lexa right now, she’s left me seventeen messages”

“It’ll pass” he tried to comfort, but he knows as well as she does that it will take a while to pass. The media seemed to be obsessed with her even before Abby became president, this was adding to an already roaring fire.

“But at what cost? Lexa’s probably dumped me, my fragile relationship with Ravens gone, everyone knows about the affair with Finn, it wasn’t even an affair – I had no idea Raven even existed but no one cares about that now. My reputations in shreds and for what? What could Sydney have possibly gained from this?”

Bellamy didn’t have an answer for any of this, he didn’t know how he could possibly tell her its not true. He definitely wasn’t one to lie to make people feel better. So instead, he crossed a boundary - he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him, letting her sob into his chest. She was warm and fragile in his arms and he ran his hand up and down her back soothingly, like a movement too fast would shatter her.

He doesn’t know how long they sat like that, eventually he sank back into the sofa, muting the television as another story about her ran, something to do with texts to an anonymous number about her fathers death, but she didn’t need to see it.

Finally the tears stopped, she sat with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm still wrapped around her. For the second time since starting this job, he had to carry her to bed. It worried him that it was close to finishing time and he hadn’t seen her eat anything or drink something that wasn’t alcohol. And while it wasn’t his place to worry, he couldn’t help it.

He lay her down on the bed gently, brushing the hair out of her face she finally looked somewhat at peace.

“It’ll be better in the morning” he promised quietly as he shut the door behind him.

It was a promise he had no right to make, but he’d promise her the world if it made her happy.


End file.
